Page 19 of Shameless Royalty

I nod slowly, the sigh I let out splitting me in two. “You’d better mean that, Niko.”

“I do,” he says without hesitation, his eyes blazing with sincerity. “I swear to fucking God.”

The tension in the room eases slightly as I lean back against the headboard, my ribs protesting the movement. “Alright. But don’t expect me to just forgive and forget overnight. Trust takes time.”

“I know,” he says softly. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear I will.”

“Good,” I say simply. “Because if you fuck this up again, I’ll kill you myself. And that’s not an empty threat.”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, the first hint of something familiar. “Fair enough.”

The room goes quiet again, the air between us feeling lighter than it has in months. Not fixed, not perfect, but… better.

“Alright,” I say, standing and wincing as pain flares through my ribs. “If we’re done here, can you fuck off? I’m fuckin’ wrecked and I need to sleep before I pass out.”

He grins and nods, heading for the door but pausing just before he leaves. “Connor,” he says softly, glancing back at me.

“What?”

“I missed this,” he admits, his voice raw. “Us. I’m going to make it right for both of you.”

I don’t respond, and after a moment, he slips out the door. As it clicks shut behind him, I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of everything starting to lift—just a little.

It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But it’s a start.

Chapter 11

Malachi

Isitontheedge of the bed, staring at the bookshelf like it might somehow grow more interesting if I glare at it long enough. It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t.

The books I’ve already picked through are stacked haphazardly on the desk, and I’m halfway through a bloody gardening manual because that’s all I’ve got left. I’m not even sure how much of it I’ve actually read and how much I’ve skimmed while my thoughts spiral into the same pointless loops.

I push up my glasses and stare at the barred window. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, staring at things and hoping they’ll suddenly make sense if I look long enough. Connor’s words from the other day keeps replaying in my head when I zone out.

Your da orchestrated the kidnappin’ of my sister and one of her closest friends. He put them through hell, and we responded in kind.

You’re leverage.

Leverage. That’s all I am. A pawn in someone else’s fucked-up game of chess. The irony is, I’m here because I’m innocent. Because my father kept me out of his world. It’s not enough that he made my life hell growing up; now I get to pay for his sins too. Fantastic.

I rub a hand over my face, trying to force the bitterness down. It doesn’t work. Every time I think about it, my chest tightens, and I want to hit something. Preferably my father, but Connor’s locked me in here, so I’ll have to settle for seething in silence.

Groaning, I flop back onto the bed. The mattress is too soft and it does nothing to stop the frustration building under my skin. If I don’t find something to do soon, I’m going to lose it.

The bookshelf catches my eye again. Even the sight of it pisses me off. A prison with decent reading material is still a prison.

The door opens suddenly, and I sit up fast enough to make my head spin. Connor steps inside, a tray in his hands, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Lunch,” he says, setting the tray on the desk. “Don’t say I never do anythin’ for you.”

“Oh, grand,” I say, leaning back on my elbows. “You’re a real saint, Cunningham. The whole‘lock the guy up for crimes he didn’t commit’thing really adds to the martyr aesthetic.”

He snorts, crossing his arms. “You want to eat or bitch?”

“Both,” I snap back, grabbing the tray. The food is the same as always but at least it’s warm. I take a bite before I even realize I’m doing it, and Connor leans against the desk, watching me like I’m a science experiment.

“What?” I demand around a mouthful of bread.

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